


Fairweather Friend

by Merit



Category: Knives Out (2019)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-07
Updated: 2020-02-07
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:34:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22594858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Merit/pseuds/Merit
Summary: He asked her to call him Ransom.
Relationships: Marta Cabrera/Ransom Drysdale
Comments: 15
Kudos: 437
Collections: Chocolate Box - Round 5





	Fairweather Friend

**Author's Note:**

  * For [prerogative](https://archiveofourown.org/users/prerogative/gifts).



Harlan’s family visited in flurries; bright and white before settling into a gray sludge that someone like Marta had to slog through to get to her destination. 

Linda, always in a new bright suit, hair like a halo around her tanned face, sequestered Harlan away in his study and watched with beady eyes when Marta administered Harlan’s medicine. Marta kept her eyes lowered, feet quick around Richard's wandering hands.

Walt, knuckles white around his cane, always half a step too close and his obnoxious son, speculating about ‘hybrid vigor.’ His wife, silent unless in support of her husband or son, gliding through the house in a Valium haze.

Meg, smelling sweetly of pot and patchouli, sighing heavily about free the nipple, her experimenting in college and all the protests she attended, white face aglow.

Joni, half a step behind her daughter, hands on her phone - the latest and greatest - as she insisted to Fran that she must stock quinoa, tumeric, kale and kelp, Joni could not live without it. She smiled at Marta, careless, as she walked through the house with an unsteady look over her shoulder. 

But Ransom visited the most, hair slicked back, shoulders wide and thrown back as if he never had to consider the space he took up. 

He hadn’t.

The first visit, his eyes glossed over her as if she was a new oddity or piece of furniture that Harlan had acquired at an estate sale. Then he paused at an entryway, blue eyes sparkling, as he took in her. She had stepped back, hair brushing the dark polished wood of a doorway, Ransom's coat and shoulders and cologne invading her space. He had smiled at her, teeth brighter than the stars that peeked through the clouds, tongue lewdly pink. 

Then Harlan called from the other room and he winked, before striding swiftly into Harlan’s study. Marta had retreated to the kitchen, cheeks flushed and a breath caught in her throat. When she saw herself reflected in the shiny fridge, she shook herself.

Marta knew what happened to girls like her who tangled with boys like Ransom. Her mother had told her stories, Marta had watched friends swept up into romances that had turned into bitter disappointments once the boy finished college and decided girls from her part of town weren't part of his future.

Marta had been smart. She had studied and kept her head down. She had dated steady, reasonable boys and wasn't going to lose her head or her job over a boy like Ransom.

The second visit they fucked.

Harlan was sleeping upstairs, as he often did during the long warm summer afternoons, and Ransom hadn’t driven away in his ridiculous car. Instead he lingered in the living room, hand trailing over the back of a chair. Fingernails clean and neatly, professionally trimmed. The rest of the house was empty, sighing and creaking as the wind crept through the open windows. The bright summer vista, the vivid green lawn, spread out around them, lush and alive and like nothing Marta had ever lived in. 

Ransom had a smile on his face, pink lips drawn back in a grin that Marta should have found - no, she did find - obnoxious. Ransom was boyishly handsome, like the movies Marta had grown up with always said she should find attractive. 

And he gave incredible head.

Which was a surprise. Marta had expected a pretty boy like him to give half hearted foreplay, maybe fondle her breasts in juvenile way, before trying to slip his dick between her legs. Marta had been expecting some disappointing sex, she hadn’t expected having to bite her lip and press a hand against her mouth to muffle her cries as Ransom went fucking crazy on her clit, two fingers deep inside.

She came, tapping her foot against the floor, her other leg wrapped around Ransom’s back, squeezing him in time with the pulses ravaging her body. When she stopped, she sighed deeply, sagging. Ransom grinned up at her, filthy, lips still gleaming obscenely.

Then he left without another word, without taking his dick out. Leaving Marta with her jeans undone, hair mussed and breathing jaggedly through her lips.

Marta wasn't going to lose her head over a boy like Ransom. Even if he did fucking amazing head. 

It became a habit. Marta had once read an article - or was it a Slate podcast as she drove to Harlan's house? - that it took eight weeks to break a habit. She and Ransom fucked more often than that. 

He took her from behind, cock sliding between her legs and into her, slick and hard and so visceral she was shaking and coming even before his dick was fully inside her, his balls heavy against her ass. Fingers sharp on her hips, digging bruises into her skin, a three day old scruff rough against her neck. His hand sprawled possessively across her stomach, nails leaving crescents in her skin. 

Once they fucked in his car, the house lit up like a Christmas tree behind them, the rest of Harlan's family having descended upon him. "Only so many of these celebrations left," Harlan had commented cheerily and the family had froze for a moment, before laughing too fast, too hard. Richard had swallowed his brandy too quickly, spluttering, while Walt clenched his hand on his cane. 

She had slipped down her jeans, he had unbuttoned his expensive trousers, the air frigid between them. His cock was hot, sliding deep within her, as she rocked back and forth on his cock. One hand braced on his shoulder, one hand against the cold glass. 

She had come with his fingers in his mouth, keeping her quiet, giving her something to suck.

He had three fingers inside her, whispering filthy things about what she could do with her plush mouth, what he'd like her to do later, when Fran came home early. 

Marta hadn't even heard her car. 

She has gasped, eyes flying open, just as Ransom added a fourth finger and pressed deep inside her, fucking her til she saw stars. She came back fast, the orgasm leaving her tongue-tied as she shoved him away, zipping up her jeans. 

Fran walked in, talking about a cousin - the whole of the Greater Boston area seemed to be her cousin - three bags in her arms, an orange about to fall to the ground. 

"Oh!" Marta exclaimed, "Let me help with that." They unpacked steadily, Ransom quiet in the corner. "This looks great, Fran. You've got some delicious things planned for the family."

Fran laughed. "A man only has a birthday once a year!" She said, smiling, her gaze clouding as she met Ransom's stare, still unmoving. "Any special requests, Hugh?"

Ransom smiled. "No, he said, stepping forward and bringing his fingers to his mouth. Marta froze, wondering if Fran could see how his fingers were still slick with her, could smell Marta's release in the air. "I was planning on eating out tonight."


End file.
